Star Stuff

by Yvonne Watterson

Remembering the first time I saw it, nebulous and bright white on a screen in my doctor’s darkened office, the cancer makes me think of Carl Sagan’s “star stuff” quote. It re­quires magical thinking to accept the notion that human beings are descen­dants of a supernova that exploded long before we were born, that there is ancient stardust in each of us.

If you have just been diagnosed with cancer, you may be wondering if the magic in your life will ever return. I’m here to tell you that it will. Though it will take time, you will rediscover that you’re a star. But you may need some help along the way, as I did.

Patience Is a Virtue
I’m not a
patient woman. I like to fix the problem and move on. Quickly. If you’re like me, try not to rush into making deci­sions until you understand the choices before you. Take the time to ask ques­tions, take notes, and get second, third, or even fourth opinions if necessary.
As overwhelming as it is, the more
you know, the better you can navigate through unfamiliar territory.

“The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of star stuff.” - Carl Sagan

Get By with a Little Help
When people offer to help, tell them exactly what you need. Stooped and bedraggled following a mastectomy and DIEP flap reconstruction, I needed quiet and rest. I asked my best friend to be my gate­keeper. She posted on my Facebook, fielded phone calls, and kept visitors away until I was ready. It was exactly what I needed from her.

Don’t Go It Alone
Take someone with you to your appointments. It’s likely that you’ll forget everything
your doctor says after “You have can­cer.” You need someone there to be your ears, to write down the important details. I wish I had taken this advice, and I’m sure my doctor would have appreciated it, given the number of times she had to remind me that yes,
in fact, she had mentioned the possi­bility of radiation.

Express Yourself
After I was diag­nosed, I opened a WordPress blog account and began typing. I didn’t hit “publish” at first. Instead, I just saved my drafts, the same way I once locked up my teenage angst in a secret diary. Like breast cancer, the blogosphere was a foreign place. But once I got comfortable with it, blogging allowed me to express myself, pro­viding me clarity and transparency. Simultane­ously apart from and a part of this new world,
I could be both alone and connected, followed and follower, reader and writer. My fellow blog­gers have lifted me up more times than I can count. We share stories, advice, unparalleled joy, un­speakable grief, and everything in between. Blogging has become my way of expressing myself. Find yours.

Learn the Language
Through a strange sisterhood, breast cancer survi­vors develop an instantaneous intimacy that allows us to talk with strangers about our vulnerabilities, about being poked and staged and prayed for. But it’s kind of like moving to a foreign country. You have to learn the language and the norms for chatting with fellow breast cancer survivors. At first, this may make you uncomfortable, but
not as uncomfortable as remaining
an outsider.

You’re Not the Cause
With my
cancer diagnosis came a flood of
questions: Did I get cancer because
I used my cellphone while driving? Because I delivered a baby at an
“advanced maternal age”? Because I hadn’t been able to breastfeed or been diligent about buying certified-organic produce? Did it have something to do with the full-bodied Zinfandel I would often enjoy at the end of a day? All these questions had me believing I caused my cancer. More than a year later, I know I didn’t. And you didn’t cause yours either.

Embrace the Unexpected Benefits
While I don’t consider cancer to be
a gift, it can bring with it unexpected benefits. You may be inspired to do
the things you always wanted to do
but never had time for. I took a college photography class. I said no to people who had never heard that word from me before. I rediscovered and recon­nected with the things that nourish
my soul – my love of books, writing, Van Morrison, and good conversation. In the end, it really is all about me.
And you. We’re made of star stuff.